I used to think that it was the age gap that created the severe miscommunication between my generation and those which precede us. Increasingly, I am starting to feel that within my own society, and more so within my own family, it is the cultural divide that has created this glaring black hole of misunderstanding and despair. Fairly dramatic, I know, but it is undeniable that it is ‘friction’ like this that shapes our personalities and in effect, our lives.
*The world is such a small place. This time last year, I was feasting on chicken pad Thai with my beautiful Geordie colleague Laura, in one of the dodgiest** joints in town. Fast forward almost twelve months and things couldn’t be more different. We’ve just come back from the same Thai place, but Laura’s only here on holiday. She’s packed up and moved to Australia.
Basically, I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, I could learn to become at least somewhat satisfied with what I’ve been given thus far. This entails a good job with great work experience, living in a country with relatively good weather year-round and paying less than the equivalent of £8 for a week’s supply of petrol (probably the biggest perk living in Qatar, however, if civil infrastructure was remotely more efficient, there may not be the need for a 4 car average/family). This is the rock.
I've always known that I have the attention span and focus of a fruit fly. I can be incredibly patient and tolerant of certain situations, particularly when the object/person in question is close to my heart. However, in saying that I have to be completely honest and say that a lot of the time I am incredibly flakey, change my mind far too much and am not the stubborn, determined person I'd like to think myself to be. When things get hard I often backtrack. Somehow I always manage to come out smelling like roses, because if the situation involves others I even remotely care about, I will not leave the situation without remedy. Its an incredibly frustrating habit, that need to please, to ensure everyone is happy, even if it often leaves me feeling hollow and much unlike the other party, incredibly dissatisfied and frustrated with the fact that I almost end up back at square one.
I dont know if this is making any sense at the moment, so Ill get to the point. I know I need to stop with the cowardice and laziness. Thats what it is really. There is no other explanation. I have the tools to do what I want, I have the knowledge to take me there and all I need is myself and this belief to be able to get that step further in my career/ relationships/ health, etc.
An example of this is my current situation with my triathlon training - sorry, I know Im going on about it a fair bit but I dont think many people realise how hard this is. No-one, not the people I live with, people I work with or my closest friends know how this feels. My colleagues constantly take the piss, others think Im 'overdoing' my 'workouts' and even my mate who's wedding I will attend as a bridesmaid is upset with me in intervals due to my lack of excitement over particular outings and my recent - and admitted - scatterbrained demeanour. Dont get me wrong, I dont blame anyone for their lack of acknowledgement. I know Im not going to get a pat on the back or an hour early off work so I can actually have some dinner before I workout or whatever, but its at this stage, when things get tough, and not just people's general attitudes, but my personal belief in my ability to complete the task at hand is shaken, this is when I backtrack.
Someone I look up to a great deal spoke with me about the direction of this blog only the other night. This is pretty much a whole lot of nothing thrown together with some pretty pictures, I know that. My dream is pretty clear to me though, and that is to work for the likes of Lonely Planet, writing for their magazine or traveler guide books. Why? Because I have so much love and passion for so many different things. I get obsessive and overtly emotional with things like music, the weather, people, food, languages, mannerisms, etc.
From a day I spent in London an odd 7 years ago, I remember things like the delicious, steaming baked potato I ate in some dingy alley, whilst trying to get some feeling back in my fingers, walking round the city gloveless in late December. A weekend I spent in Woolloomooloo (yes, its a real place. Its an Aboriginal name) has me dreaming about the incredibly salty anchovy pizza I feasted on in a cosy Italian restaurant where I was served by a young guy with awful tattoos, next door to one of the most charming bottle-o's I'd ever entered. There was also the hotel I stayed at with the lock on the front door, which when taking into consideration the terrifying block around the corner from the hotel with dozens of homeless people strewn around corners of abandoned houses, was not such a bad idea. Two streets down is pretty much the artisan, hippy heart of Sydney, rows of tiny, charming cafes, bookshops, antique stores, restaurants and galleries where I spent two of the best nights of my life in Australia. Tony and Bill's latte's at 1am, people watching as beautiful, arty folk waltzed past, with their charm bracelets, leather jackets and suede loafers as cliché Italian pop washed over the eclectic mix of people sipping on like latte's, espressos and deliciously creamy and crispy cannoli.
See what I mean? I can ramble for hours when it comes to travel. Nothing brings it all together like a trip abroad. The point? Why would Lonely Planet hire ME? What do I have that INCREDIBLE presenters like Toby Amies and Asha Gill dont? I've been wanting to write a mock script for the show and shoot a reel to send through to LP for months now. Months. And I still haven't done anything about it. I sit and dream. Is it cowardice? Is it laziness? What's holding me back? I just dont know.
Normal chirpy service will resume soon, promise. And if you scrolled through this and cant be fucked reading the entire bloody thing as I clearly have issues with sticking to a word count, please watch the video below. Ian Wright is my all time favourite Lonely Planet presenter. You can find clips of his travels with LP on Youtube. This is a clip of him doing a talk in NY about some of the funnier things he's come across as a presenter. Lucky bastard.
So, where were we last? Yes, packed and ready to go traipsing off into the wild jungles of... oh, wait. I was going to Copenhagen. What??
Glorious. Flag pole out at the entrance of the King's Garden
In all seriousness, I hadn't given Denmark a second thought in like... ever. Apart from the fact that their crown princess is a Tasmanian stunner, this little gem of a country never crossed my mind. Stereotypically, when one vacations in Europe, the regularly frequented spots are the likes of Italy, Spain, Greece, maybe venturing out to Eastern Europe for the really 'crazy' types. Scandinavia, I dunno.. maybe its just me but the last thing I ever wanted was to spend my summer in freezing temperatures (anything under 20 degrees is cold in my world) when I could be slathered in coconut oil and soaking up the sun on a sandy beach somewhere, perving at men in Calvin Jockey-like swim trunks al a Daniel Craig's baby blues.
Anyway, before I ramble on too much, let me tell you what a surprise Copenhagen gave me *deep sigh*
Champers, courtesy of standout airline, Qatar Airways
dropped off at the airport
briefing from Qatar Airways staff on facilities within their business/first class premium lounge.. they have sleeping cubicles. And a masseuse. And a fully equipped spa. And buffet(s). Really?
get on plane - business class rocks my world. Where were these seats when I was flying back and forth from Sydney, cramped up in economy with throbbing knees and the fear of developing deep vein thrombosis? I was served warm nuts, champagne and a salmon starter. I need to get rich.
an incredibly comfortable sleep later, BAM, we land in Copenhagen airport. Not much to say, not much to it really.
hello Thomas from VikingBus (yes, yes, I know). So far, its cold, Im not impressed. Now what? Thomas decides to drive us into Copenhagen city center using the highway route. Silly, considering later during the trip we take the beach route leading to the airport - a MUCH better first impression.
And speaking of first impressions... EVERYONE is on a bike. Umm... is this one of those places where absolutely everyone is incredibly healthy and beautiful and no-one is overweight? Yes. Yes it was.
arrived at the Kong Frederik hotel ( definitely worth checking out if you're looking to stay in Denmark for any number of days, one of the most charming hotels I've ever stayed at and part of the elite First Hotels chain - http://bit.ly/9V5zUT ) My room was, what I've labelled as, literature chic - pretty self explanatory really. Incredibly comfy bed, all amenities on offer, perfect.
Excuse my jeans and the mess I managed to make 3 minutes after walking into the room
The view to one side of my room - town hall and on the right hand corner, the magical Tivoli Gardens
The green tower head is only part of the Bank of Denmark building but I still found it charming - no people on the street, 8am
Get dressed, misjudge the weather due to the glaring sun outside and head out to lunch at Restaurant Orangeriet via, wait for it, bicycle taxi. Must we do this? I asked our tour guide. YES! You must! Answered the contagiously enthusiastic and all round charmer Henrik. Its the Danish way, he says. Fine. 7 minutes of severe frozen wind whiplash, sniffles and ducking to hide my now Copenhagen residing face from the gorgeous locals, swanning about gracefully on their cute bicycles, we reach Orangeriet, which is located in the King's Garden.
A sneak peak from one of the windows at Orangeriet and out onto the King's Gardens where a certain literary legend lives
Aaaaand that's all Im telling you until next time... and it'll be sooner than two weeks, I promise. Work has been hectic and I've been all over the place with business trips, deadlines and trying to stick to my triathlon training (the London Tri, yes. Also, yes, I AM insane). But for the sake of keeping these short *ahem* and sweet, I need to do this in batches and I really dont want to miss out on any of the magical details as it all deserves to be done justice.
So yeah, tune in next time for the fruit display stealing media scum that was with us on the trip, drinking ridiculous amounts of Snâps at lunch (not to be confused with Schnapps) and being rained on during an hour long canal tour, out on the.. erm.. canal, and dinner at one of Europe's first designer hotels, hosted by one of the most gorgeous men I had ever seen *deep breaths* Hai hai for now lovers!
Yes, I did what every wanker on the planet does and used Babel translator to transform the dull and overused phrase 'I love *insert person/place/pet/spotty, vampire-playing, teenage celebrity*' into I love Copenhagen in Danish. I do apologise for this behaviour, but in all honesty, I really do think I've fallen in love with that tiny and GORGEOUS city. Anywho, since most of you probably have no idea what Im on about, Im about to relay the events of probably one of the luckiest days of my working life thus far, so hold on to your socks, knickers and fake tache's; this is a riveting one:
Email *ping* on Regional Managing Editor *Jorge's computer. *Samson, *Mona and myself ignore this as we have become accustomed to Jorge's obnoxious mobile and computer ring/ alert tones.
Jorge: Well looky here, who wants to go to Copenhagen?
All three of us: *Insert collection of the 5 W's alongside oh me! No I cant! Dammit, I want to go! Really? Copenhagen? etc*
Jorge: Yup, Qatar Airways has just launched its direct route to Denmark and we've been offered a spot on their first media tour out there. (Side note: This is purely because the airlines expects some sort of kiss ass in return, and to be completely honest, they deserve it much more than a cheek grazing kiss.)
This map is for the benefit of the embarrassing number of people who don't actually know where Denmark is. Yes, you.
Cue raucous arguments over who last went on what trip and when, discussions over magazine deadlines, who can afford to leave... and then it hits us. When is this mystery luxury, all expenses paid, beautiful thirst-quenching mirage set to take place??
Jorge: The flight leaves tonight. Its for five nights, return Saturday morning.
Samson: Agh, I can't leave the magazine. We're already behind on deadline.
Jorge: Neither can I - I was only in Seville last month the same time as deadline, and as much as Id love to scarper off to Scandinavia, I think that's pushing it a little *hearty, slightly bitter Welsh guffaw*
Mona: Dammit!! I want to go to Denmark! I can't go though, Im leaving to London on Thursday!
Me: Umm.... I'll go?
What? He can't go? Im not going either! (errm.. you know that's just for him, yea? Cool)
What ensued was an afternoon of restless 'work', a tiny evening run (I was afraid I wouldn't get the chance to keep up my tri training while I was abroad so the 20 minute run was a bit of a guilt compressor) and hectic packing for weather the organisers called 'chilly', my boss labeled as 'freezing' and the internet said ranged between 'below zero and 14 degrees'. Right.
And so began the best five days I have had in a long, long time. Possibly the best five days of my life if I was to be completely honest. However, I do have a habit of romanticising everything and developing irrational emotional attachments to places I visit, therefore this normal.
Stay tuned for the flight and day number one in Wonderful Copenhagen. There will be pictures.
*names have been changed for privacy issues and even though I know noone actually reads this blog, I dont want to get bitten in the ass by angry people who would have appreciated it had I NOT directly quoted them, thanks.
